


No Force Greater Than

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bullying, Derogatory Language, High School, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars References, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, bucky barnes is kind of an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: In which:Steve Rogers is writing a Star Wars comic that may or may not be based on his real lifeBucky Barnes disappears and reappearsAnd nothing is ever the same(A high school AU)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27
Collections: Stucky Remix 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love Above All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913) by [wolfiefics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics). 



> A remix of [WolfieFics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics) fic [Love Above All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092) (a concept I am obsessed with)
> 
> I had so much fun with this (and rewatching all my fave Star Wars movies while I worked on it) and I hope you all like it too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is." --Yoda

[ **_A Long Time Ago, In a Galaxy Far Far Away_ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_It is one hundred and fifty years before the fall of the GALACTIC REPUBLIC,_ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_Before the birth of QUI-GON JINN, OBI-WAN KENOBI and the SKYWALKERS of infamy._ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_Master Yoda sits upon the Jedi Council and has sent JEDI KNIGHT STEVE ROGERS_ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_To the planet of CORINTH to settle a planetary dispute before it erupts into WAR._ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_However, Knight Rogers will soon learn there is more at work here_ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

[ **_Than even the FORCE is willing to reveal at this time..._ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092)

  
  


“Jedi Knight Steve Rogers sits in the front of his small space craft, heading for Corinth,” Steve Rogers, age seven said, using a baseball glove as a steering wheel.

“What does Corinth look like, Jedi Knight Steve Rogers?” Bucky Barnes, age eight, taunted from where he was sprawled out across the floor next to Steve. He was hopelessly tangled in the blankets of their fort, threatening to pull the walls in around them with the wrong turn.

Steve turned to glare at him. “It’s a planet. It’s green and blue.”

“Oh, so Earth,” Bucky said.

Steve threw the baseball glove at him.

Bucky laughed and grabbed his glove, picking up where Steve had left off in manning the make-believe space craft. “Oh, no, Jedi Knight Steve Rogers’ craft has been hijacked by a Rogue soldier!” Bucky cried, rocking wildly back and forth until his bony shoulder found Steve’s.

“Rogue callsigns are good guys!” Steve objected, worming his way in front of Bucky’s flailing body to grab the baseball glove back.

“That’s not established until the original series,” Bucky pointed out. “And you set your stupid story before the prequels.”

Steve scoffed and elbowed Bucky’s ribs until he was able to yank the baseball glove back.

“I was _saying_!” he emphasized, making an exaggerated show of replacing the glove on an invisible steering column, “that Corinth is on the brink of a war--”

“What kind of war?”

“A trade war!” Steve snapped.

“Oh my gosh, you’re _so boring_!” Bucky cried, falling back on their fort’s floor, head hitting a pillow too roughly. But since he was Bucky Barnes, he didn’t react until he thought Steve couldn’t see.

Steve almost always saw.

“Who are you taking as backup, Knight Rogers?” Bucky asked, folding his arm under his head so he could rub at his scalp without being too obvious.

“Why would I need backup? I’m a Jedi Knight. I’m the most powerful thing in the galaxy. And I’ve got you.”

“Me, who just tried to hijack your ship?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I trust you anyway. The force says I can.”

“That’s not how the force works!” Bucky objected. “And you can’t always be force sensitive. That makes the game too easy.”

“It’s not your game. If you want to add to it, you can make your own.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, have fun in your fantasy world without anyone to play with.”

“As if you’re going anywhere,” Steve scoffed back.

“What are you gonna do on Corinth?” Bucky asked, scooting back over to where Steve was sitting.

“I’ve been sent by Master Yoda to _facilitate peace talks_.”

Bucky made a noise halfway between a scoff and gagging. “Stop talkin’ like your dad. You need something fun. There needs to be a spy. A conspiracy!”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You just want me to get in trouble in the game.”

“Why not? You’re always in trouble in real life.” Steve threw a pillow at Bucky and then leaned over to tackle him down, drawing a screeching laugh from Bucky. “And you’re always gettin’ me in trouble too!” he added between laughter. He pushed at Steve’s shoulders, but it was no use. Steve’s scrawny arms were around his waist, fingers locked around his own wrist, and Bucky would never really shove Steve hard enough to hurt him. So he was stuck with Steve’s boney joints digging into his ribs or thighs or shoulders.

“I’m a Jedi Knight and Jedi Knights don’t get in trouble!” Steve argued, pinching at Bucky’s sides until Bucky finally flipped them over and threw Steve on the make-shift bed of couch cushions next to them.

“All Jedi Knights ever do is get into trouble. It’s the best thing you have in common with them.”

“They do not!”

Bucky leveled an unimpressed stare at Steve. “Obi-Wan Kenobi? Luke Skywalker? _Anakin_ Skywalker?”

Steve glared at him for a second longer before pushing him over and starting another round of laughter and screeching.

“Boys!” Sarah Rogers called down the hall, “Bucky’s mom will be here in a few minutes. Start cleaning up.”

Instantly, Bucky’s mood soured and he crossed his arms over his chest, laying flat on the floor and staring at the blanket over them. “She’s not my mom,” he grumbled. “And they’re not gonna keep me.”

Steve laid down next to him and jostled his shoulder. “They’d be stupid not to keep you,” he said. “You’re the best.”

“She said her kids are too old. She don’t want to go through ‘raising someone else’.”

Steve cringed at the easy way Bucky said the harsh words. “She’s been married to your dad for almost two years. I think she wants you.” 

Bucky snorted and shook his head. Steve reached out for Bucky’s hand, where it was laying over his chest, and tangled their fingers together. “There is no emotion, there is peace” he said.

Bucky heaved out a great, weary sigh but lolled his head over to Steve to look at him as he said, “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

“There is no passion, there is serenity.”

“There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

“There is no death--”

“There is only the force.”

“Love above all,” Steve finished.

“Love above all,” Bucky agreed and then shoved Steve again and sat up. “Give me my glove back. Where’d you put my backpack?”

Steve crawled over towards the TV stand and pulled Bucky’s backpack free from the pillows they’d ended up not using. He turned off the christmas lights they’d strung up in the fort and folded back the longest blanket to let in the light from the room. He shoved Bucky’s toothbrush bag into the front pouch and handed it over.

“You should ask her to stay longer,” he said.

“You could come over to our house,” Bucky answered. “It’s not like everyone bites.”

Steve made a face and shook his head. “I don’t like your sisters.”

“They’re _not_ my sisters. And they’re just loud. They lay around in their rooms mostly and talk.”

“Wish it was just us.”

“And your mom.”

“And my mom,” Steve agreed quickly. When the front door opened, Steve sighed and got up to his feet, tugging Bucky with him.

“I’ll come over next week again. And maybe we’ll go to that burger place after Marina’s volleyball game and you can come with us. Please come to the game with me. It’s so boring,” Bucky said quickly, clutching onto Steve’s wrists.

“I’ll see what ma says. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment Wednesday and you know Ma doesn’t let me go out after.”

Bucky made a dejected noise and grabbed his bag before pulling Steve with him out of Steve’s bedroom. They only made it a step into the living room before Bucky’s mom was stopping him.

“Sweety, where’s your jacket?”

And Bucky groaned dramatically but ran back down the hall to Steve’s room. Sarah pulled Steve down on the couch next to her and Steve’s skin started to crawl. He was very good at telling when things were bad. And things seemed bad here. He held onto his mom’s hand when she put it on his thigh to stop his bouncing leg and the tableau was enough to stop Bucky when he came back into the room.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily, bright eyes darting between everyone in the room.

“Sweety, come here,” his mom said, patting the loveseat she was sitting on. Bucky obeyed without arguing, which was saying something. “Sweetheart, I thought it was important you and Steve heard this together.

“You know your father has been working very hard and he got a new job at work, right?” And when Bucky didn’t answer, she continued. “Well, that new job means that we have to move.”

“What?” Bucky demanded. “I’m not moving. I’m not leaving!”

“ _A thaisce_ ,” Sarah said, moving to kneel in front of Bucky, which was well and good because he was about to jump to his feet and hide under Steve’s bed. “You know we would keep you here, all to ourselves,” she said softly, holding his hands in hers. “But your family is moving to Indiana and that’s too far for you to stay away. You’ll miss them too much.”

“I’ll miss _this_!” Bucky corrected, tears welling up in his eyes. Sarah held his hands tighter, keeping him from squirming away. Steve was free, though, to run over and climb onto the love seat next to Bucky. The boys wrapped spindly arms around each other, holding on tightly. 

“You and Steve can write to each other every day, if you want,” Sarah said, bringing her hands up to each boy’s hair. “And when you’re old enough, I’m sure you’ll exchange phone numbers.”

“Indiana is so far away, ma!” Steve objected.

“You still have a few weeks to get used to the idea,” Bucky’s mom said, reaching over to run her hand over Bucky’s hair too. He moved away from her touch, half climbing into Steve’s lap. “You can say goodbye for this whole time. Steve can come over whenever he wants. And I’m sure Mrs. Rogers will say yes if you ask her real nice to stay here a few extra nights.”

Bucky brought his hands up to his face, wiping away tears and hiding his red cheeks. “I don’t want to go.”

“James, you’ll have to come home tonight at least. You have school in the morning. You haven’t even seen your laundry basket in a week.”

“I’m not doing my laundry!”

Sarah rolled her eyes in front of Bucky and pinched his ear. “You’ll listen to your mother and do as she asks you. And Steve has to clean his room too,” she said, looking over at Steve, “because I think half of the things in his room are yours.”

Steve, for his part, was too upset to react. He clung onto Bucky and hid his face in Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky turned to hide his face in Steve’s. It was an awkward position for both of them but they didn’t move until Sarah pulled them apart.

“Come back as soon as your mom says it’s okay to come home with Steve. We’ll have a pizza party and watch TV all night.”

“What’s the point?” Bucky wailed, reaching for Steve again. He was pulled away again and his mom hugged him against her chest.

“Sweetheart, calm down. You still have time here.”

“Maybe it’s best if you two just head home,” Sarah suggested, reaching for Steve’s wrist before he could decide to attach himself to Bucky again. “I’ll call you later in the week to see if Bucky’s free.”

“Jamie, come on. Let’s go home.”

“It’s not home! It’s not!” Bucky cried, squirming in his mom’s grasp as she pulled him back to the door. “I hate this! I want to stay! Let me stay!”

Winnifried shot a harried look at Sarah, who gave her a sympathetic look back before closing the door.

Steve burst into tears.

  
  
  
~ ~ ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This is a new day, a new beginning.” – Ahsoka Tano

“Earth to Star-Commander Rogers,” Natasha Romanov, age eighteen, called in a mechanical, computer voice, snapping her fingers in front of Steve’s face in his locker.

“Yeah, yeah, hang on, Nat. I’ve just got to write something down,” he answered, waving her off as he dug in his locker for his sketchbook.

“I’m not gonna ‘hang on’ to the homecoming dance. I’m trying to ask you out.”

Steve, age seventeen, laughed and shook his head before climbing on the bottom locker to reach the top shelf in his. He maintained it was categorically unfair that someone five foot three got assigned a top locker. “Sam’s already beaten you to it,” he said. “He asked me over the weekend after bringing me the new Red Dead Redemption game.”

“Sam’s not even from here. It’s not his homecoming,” Nat argued.

Steve leveled an unimpressed look at her and yanked his book free. She reached over to stop the rest of the mess in his locker from falling out. “He’s not! He’s been here for, like, four school months.”

“I’m not going to the dance at all. Or the game. I don’t want to,” Steve said stubbornly.

“Liar. Everyone secretly wants to go to these things. It’s senior year, what else are you doing?”

Steve finished scrawling a line of dialogue he liked from English class down in a corner of his journal, on an ideas page instead of one with comics panels marked out already, and then glared up at Natasha. “I’m not like everyone else.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and cuffed Steve over the side of the head before ruffling his hair, much to his immediate chagrin. “I’ll let you know what color dress I’m wearing.”

“Sam already said we’re doing red and grey. And it’s not prom. _And_ I’m not going,” he shouted after her.

Natasha was already halfway down the hallway and only raised her hand to wave over her shoulder. Steve huffed and turned a few pages in his sketchbook before stowing it away safely in his locker again.

It’s not like he thought anyone was going to steal it, but there was a lot of work in that book that wasn’t saved anywhere else yet. Besides, he’d already been caught writing the dumb story once freshman year and his pride hadn’t yet recovered from the ribbing about ‘fanfiction’. It wasn’t fanfiction. Plenty of real authors wrote Star Wars stories all the time. There were books and movies and comics and graphic novels and shows. He was just following in a long line of tradition.

So what if the characters shared his name and face for a while until he could find their own rhythm? It wasn’t fanfiction.

He was halfway certain Natasha Romanov deciding he was her best friend in sixth grade was the only thing that had saved what little of his reputation had been built around the school. He was nice enough and people liked him, but he had no delusions about being popular, or even being able to be picked out of a crowd by most of his classmates. Natasha had stuck by him regardless and made sure anyone who had a snide glance for him, had one for her.

And no one really wanted that. 

Steve shut his locker and leaned his forehead against it for a second, bracing himself for homeroom. It was the wildest class of the day, with zero structure or reason. It was for taking attendance and saving a core class from having to deal with the after-lunch madness. It was the one of two classes that he didn’t share with his advanced placement cohort and if he had to listen to Brock Rumlow for thirty minutes straight for the rest of the year, he might drop out and switch schools.

With a sigh, he straightened up and turned for Ms. Hill’s class. He only got a few steps before he froze in the middle of the hallway. “Bucky?” he asked and, horrifyingly, the man standing in front of him furrowed his brow.

“Who the hell--” the kid started, before a slow grin slipped over his mouth. “Oh my God, no one’s called me that in years. Stevie Rogers?” he said, stepping forward and offering his hand out for...a high five? A slap? Steve was so bad at all of that kind of male bonding bullshit.

Bucky clapped their hands together and pulled Steve into a half hug. “God, you’re itty-bitty, Steve. Did you hit your growth spurt yet? You’ve got a voice to kill for,” Bucky said, holding Steve by the shoulder with one arm. The other arm was in a complicated metal brace. It wrapped around high on his bicep, lower before the elbow, hinged on his elbow, and had two more connections around his forearm and wrist. It was a wicked piece of machinery and obscured most of his arm with rods connected to bars connected to the cuffs. There was a heavy belt holding the whole thing to his chest. It basically kept his arm immoble.

But Steve could barely keep his eyes on it. Bucky was _tall_. Taller than tall. At least a foot taller than Steve. And all his lanky boyish limbs had filled out into a lean athlete’s body in a way that definitely hadn’t happened for Steve at any point in his life. His dark hair was longer than he’d ever worn it as a kid, almost brushing his shoulders and hanging in his face. And his eyes were so bright they nearly hurt to look at.

That was a lie. Steve could look at Bucky’s eyes for the rest of his life.

“Are you back? Do you go here?” Steve asked, reaching up to hold onto Bucky’s forearm.

Bucky grinned and nodded. “Yeah, transferred back in. Dad got his whole schtick set up and they promoted him back over here.”

For a second, Steve felt bad for Bucky. A whole decade was a long time to get to know new friends, play on new teams, go to a different high school, just to lose it all senior year. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Steve admitted a little breathlessly. “There’s so much to say. You should come over for dinner. Ma’s gonna be so excited to see you again.”

Bucky laughed and it was different from when they were kids, but Steve was happy to hear it all the same. “Your mom still remembers me?” he asked.

Steve scoffed. “Pal, Ma still makes a cake on your birthday.”

“She’s the sweetest,” he said, face softening. He brought his hand up to the back of Steve’s head and squeezed his neck. “It’s good to see you, Stevie. It’s good to be back. I’ll find you after school. Do you drive? I’ll drive you home,” he said, so quickly that Steve couldn’t get an answer in. And Bucky was walking away before Steve could answer him anyway. Steve watched him dance around a girl who opened her locker directly in front of him and watched the effortless way Bucky charmed her in the middle of the hall with a few words and an easy grin.

Steve’s knees went weak.

~ ~ ~

Driving, for Bucky, actually meant a motor scooter that was parked in a parking garage three blocks in the opposite direction that Steve lived in. But he’d been sweet enough to appear next to Steve’s locker at the end of the day, so it felt like the least he could do to humor him.

And try not to die. Bucky was as impatient on the road as he ever was anywhere else. “Sorry!” he called at a stop light at one point. “On my bike, I’m used to weaving in and out of traffic!”

Steve yelped when Bucky tried to gun the scooter as soon as the light changed and purposely kept his hands on the seat behind him and not Bucky’s waist. “Should you even be driving?!” he called back.

“What?!” Bucky asked.

Steve gestured to Bucky’s brace and then nearly howled when Bucky banked to the side Steve wasn’t holding onto. Thankfully, Bucky pulled into the Rogers’s driveway before trying to talk again. “It’s not so bad. The scooter is pretty equally balanced. The doctors all told me to keep off my bike until the brace came off, so I’m driving this thing.”

“I can’t believe your ma lets you drive a motorcycle,” Steve said and then internally cringed, waiting for the tirade about how she wasn’t his ma and to stop saying that and making it normal.

Instead, Bucky just shrugged and grabbed his bag from Steve’s lap. “Dad took me just before my seventeenth birthday while she was at work. She didn’t get much say in it. I get an earful every time I take it out.” He paused, head cocked to the side and a hurt expression on his face. “Well, took it out.”

Steve chewed on his lip before deciding just to brush by Bucky and pull open the door. “Ma, you’re not gonna believe who I found outside!” he called.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you put that cat back out where you found it,” Sarah chastised as she came into the living room. It did not take her long to change her tune. “Oh my goodness, look at you, Bucky Barnes,” she laughed, coming forward to hug Bucky tightly. “You look just the same, only a little bit taller.”

“Oh, come on, Mrs. R. Don’t say that. I put a lotta work into this facial hair,” he joked as he reached up to stroke his mostly bare chin.

“Ma, do you mind ordering some pizza?” Steve asked, reaching for Bucky’s elbow to pull him back towards his room.

“Oh, yeah, Buck. You’ve gotta stay for dinner,” Sarah agreed. “Do you want me to call Winny?”

Bucky made a face at the nickname but shook his head. “I texted her before I left school that I’d be over here for the evening.”

“Okay, Ma, call when the pizza gets here,” Steve said, pulling Bucky away.

“Behave, Steven Grant,” she warned with a knowing look.

Steve blushed in horror and embarrassment. “Ma!” He finished pulling Bucky down to his room and firmly shut the door behind them. He was going to speak when he noticed Bucky already looking around his room.

For the most part, Steve had kept it modest. The bed was a mock-up of four-poster, cobbled together in an odd shape from wood he’d fished out of construction sites. The posters were sleeker, more angular than a traditional, heavy frame. He’d painted them with metallics in nonsensical designs, products of a bored afternoon more than a strategic design. He kept his books in three bookshelves around the room with a few extra on wall mounted shelves, between toys and action figures. When Bucky’s cool eyes found the row of Funko Star Wars Pops, Steve let out a squeak and hurried over to direct his attention elsewhere.

Everyone at school knew he was the Star Wars guy. It was hard to avoid. Steve really tried to reign it in, for Natasha’s sake, for Sam’s sake. But he couldn’t help it all the time. He loved the series, the whole world, too much to keep from mentioning it in class discussions or dressing up on spirit days in costumes. At first he’d assumed it would at least earn him a few friends. People liked Star Wars. It was something anyone could talk about. Apparently, though, no one liked it this much.

Except for maybe Sam Wilson, who was an anomaly and should not count.

And it wasn’t Sam Wilson looking at dumb action figures. And there was no hiding his love of the mythology in this room. Steve reached for the Boba Fett toy in Bucky’s fingers and set it back where it belonged before putting his body between Bucky’s eyes and the shelf.

“I thought those things lost all worth once you opened them,” Bucky said, sprawling out over Steve’s bed.

Steve shrugged and played with his fingers for a few seconds. “Nah. Mass produced ones like that aren’t gonna be worth much. Besides, I don’t plan on selling them. They’re worth more if I can use them for reference whenever I need, not in a box.” When he was certain Bucky was done exploring, Steve turned to dump his backpack in his desk chair. He pulled out his sketchbook and laid it open on its spot on his desk. He doubted he’d get any writing or sketching done tonight with Bucky around, but he didn’t feel like he was home until it was open and waiting for him.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Becca’s finally old enough that she’s stopped fighting Mom about opening limited edition Barbie Dolls.”

“Becca?” Steve asked, sitting on the bed a few feet from Bucky.

“Oh, yeah, my little sister. I forgot she was born in Indiana,” he laughed. He sat up and pulled out his phone. “She’s almost ten now. New Home Celebration Baby,” he joked and turned his phone so Steve could see pictures of a small girl with a striking similarity to Bucky, all dark hair, bright eyes, and a wild smile.

“She could be your twin,” Steve said.

“Yeah, Mom was certain she’d grow into some of her features, but Becs is Dad’s girl all the way.” Bucky grinned at his phone for a few more seconds before putting it away and looking at Steve. “This place is very you.”

Steve shrugged and looked around. He tried not to let the stab of embarrassment at the Star Wars toys and sketches and posters hit him too hard. “Ma lets me do anything I want, so long as I use my own money.”

Bucky nodded and shoved his hands in his lap. “I see you’re still into these movies.”

Steve blushed, again, and nodded. “Yeah, you could say that. I wanna work in the media sector for them one day.”

“Hey, kudos to that,” Bucky said. “I grew out of it pretty fast. Signed up for the baseball team when we moved and the school I was at was small enough that basically anyone on the baseball team is on the football team and the basketball team. By the time we got to school teams, I was pretty good at all of them.”

Steve nodded too. “I keep trying out for the baseball team. They keep not putting me on it.” Some years he didn’t even pass the physical for the Athletics class. “Is that how you got hurt?”

Bucky looked at his brace like he was seeing it for the first time. “This? Nah. I was free climbing at one of the wild parks. I fell and broke my arm pretty bad. I’ve been in this thing for over a year now, and all sorts of casts before that. They think the bone might finally be setting this time.”

Steve cringed in sympathy pain. “That sucks, man,” he said. They fell into another awkward silence and Bucky stood up at the same time Steve asked, “So you have a little sister?”

Bucky glanced at him blandly over his shoulder before making his way over to Steve’s sketchpad. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool. The older girls always say ‘now you know what it was like when Mom married Dad,’” he said, affecting a high pitched voice for his sisters. “But I actually _like_ Becca and they never figured out how to tolerate me.”

“Well, they weren’t in the house with you for very long,” Steve said. He was pretty sure the youngest of the girls had been fifteen when Bucky moved, so there was only a few months to three years for any of them with him.

“Is this the same story you used to play when we were kids?” Bucky asked, instead of answering. He flipped a few pages and Steve internally cringed. “Ha, is Principal Pierce your bad guy?”

“Yeah. Uh, I want it to be a comic. I mean--it is a comic. I’m writing a comic.”

“Wow, so you’re like seriously a nerd,” Bucky said. “This isn’t all, like, you just making sure your ma don’t feel bad by not throwin’ out old toys.”

Steve blushed furiously. “No. I told you. I bought almost everything in here on my own.”

Bucky held up one hand in mock surrender. “I’ve just never met a teenager still into all this kid stuff.”

“It’s not kid stuff, Buck,” Steve insisted.

“Pal, could you call me James? You keep makin’ me jump with the Buck thing. No one’s called me that in ages.”

Steve glared at Bucky, jaw tight. “I’ll think about it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved Steve’s head lightly. “You’re still so weird. You can’t just _decide_ what to call someone else.”

“Can so.”

“Boys, the pizza’s here!” Sarah called, before the argument could turn to a brawl. She opened the door a second later and smiled fondly at them. “You two look like a photo. Bucky, do you still like horror movies? Steve bought the Ari Aster collection a few days ago, so we have all of his stuff.”

“Cool, Mrs. R. I haven’t seen the newest two. Mostly I go out with my little sister to the theater, so it’s been a bunch of cartoons and princesses for me.”

“A little sister!” Sarah gasped, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders to usher him out of the room.

“Oh, yeah, she’s nine--” Bucky’s voice faded down the hall and Steve was left fuming in his room, unsure what the hell had just happened and who the hell he’d been talking to. Because that definitely wasn’t Bucky Barnes.

~ ~ ~

“There’s the love of my life!” Sam Wilson, age seventeen, laughed as he jumped over Steve’s shoulders, wrapping an arm around his chest and almost taking Steve down when he stumbled on the landing. He pressed an intentionally messy kiss to Steve’s cheek and then leaned against the lockers to silently gloat at Natasha as she came down the hall. 

“You two are idiots,” Steve scoffed. Still, he couldn’t quite keep the grin off of his face. It had been a week since Bucky had reappeared in his life and that evening at the house together was about all the time they’d shared in the week. Bucky seemed to have no problem folding himself into the athletics scene at the school and Steve stuck with Sam and Natasha.

Sam Wilson was a hell of an anomaly in the school, that much was indisputable. He’d come from a large, rich, highly successful DC school and had been a star on the basketball court and baseball field and a competitor on the track. Natasha, who kept up with high school sports for some ungodly reason, knew his name when he transferred in. They didn’t know the whole story about why he left DC, but he wasn’t playing ball in Brooklyn. He still got on with the jock crowd and he had a personality that could charm the pants off a rattlesnake so the entire school loved him. He was a diligent student and competed for top spots in the rankings and despite all of this, he managed to find time to nerd out about anything and everything sci-fi with Steve.

His interests could overpower even Steve’s sometimes. God help anyone near him when he finished a TV show because they’d be subjected to hours of analysis and line and scene recall. He’d started talking to Steve after clocking a Millenium Falcon shaped watch Steve was wearing from across the room. Nothing else about Steve’s health or his reputation or the terrifying red-head always standing behind him deterred Sam from chattering his hearing-aid off for that free period last March. They hadn’t really let go of each other since. 

“I’m not going,” Steve insisted.

“Too late, you said yes to me,” Sam said, shaking his head and sounding very sure of himself.

“You got me drunk.”

“You had two Coors,” Sam scoffed. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder when Natasha finally made her way over to them through the crowd. Not even Natasha Romanov could part high school hallways.

“Hey, Replacement,” she greeted, nodding to Sam. It was a biting, joking nickname she’d given to him after Steve had explained who Bucky was last weekend over probably too much Ben and Jerry’s.

“Have you talked to the dude? You’re definitely the replacement. I think your base robot skeletons were made in the same place,” Sam argued. There was an easy smile on his face though and Steve let the joshing continue without telling them to be nice to each other.

“This body is one hundred percent human, Wilson,” Natasha said, gesturing at her perfect figure.

“How about you and me test that out?” Sam suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her until she socked him in the arm.

“Please go flirt somewhere away from me,” Steve said and pretended to throw up in his locker.

They were interrupted by raucous laughter down the hallway. A group of football players were, clearly, trying to pressure one of the younger players to do some asinine thing. He held up his hands, shook his head, laughed too.

“No way. I promised Allie I’d spend the weekend with her family. We never get Fridays together. I’m spending the bi-week with her.”

“Gaaaaayyy,” Bucky brayed and grinned over at Rumlow when Rumlow knocked the back of his hand against Bucky’s chest in approval.

Normally, 99.9999999% of the time, someone couldn’t finish using gay as a derogative term before Steve was all over their ass. But hearing it in Bucky’s voice stopped him cold. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know anything about Bucky anymore. Sam and Natasha used gay to describe things all the time, but they got a pass because they weren’t straight. And what if Bucky wasn’t straight?

But then again, Sam and Natasha only used it to describe things they liked and Bucky definitely had not. And if Rumlow was around, there was definitely no chance Bucky was being gay and funny.

Steve’s fingers curled around his bag strap but Sam quickly pulled him away. “The dance is in three weeks,” he said, and Steve could tell he was only trying to distract him. “We’re running out of time to get an outfit.”

“It’s gonna be a whole outfit?” Natasha asked dubiously.

“Hell yeah. We’re bringing disco back,” Sam said. “Spandex, glitter, an entire disco ball deconstructed on my chest.”

“I’m so not going with you,” Steve said.

Sam wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders to keep him walking. “Just you wait until we go to Prom together. Full on tuxes. A limo. Cheesy music all night.”

Steve rolled his eyes but let himself lean into Sam’s side. He was trying really hard to focus on his friends, but his chest ached at the easy way Bucky seemed to fit all the stereotypes and personalities that Steve hated.

“You know,” Sam started, after the third time Steve looked back at Bucky before they hit the front doors of the school, “maybe he’s not the kind you save.”

Steve glared over at him and pushed out of Sam’s arm to open the door for the other two. “I don’t try to save anyone.”

Natasha snorted and shook her head. “You try to save everyone. You want everyone to be a good person. You might think you’re only being pithy and just, but you’re trying to tell people right from wrong when you do.”

“I do not!” Steve objected again. He ignored the unimpressed looks from Sam and Natasha as they passed him out the door. “Besides, no one’s beyond saving.”

Natasha held up her hand in a ‘there it is’ gesture and Sam reached over to high-five her. “[You’re too noble for your own good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092).”

“Just don’t let yourself get hurt trying to help a guy who’s decided Brock Rumlow is worth his time,” Sam added. 

Steve shrugged and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I would argue with you, but you don’t like to be right and I’m going to be late for work,” he said, a slow grin coming to his face. Natasha opened the passenger door in her car and Steve slipped in.

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Sam laughed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s how it is,” Steve said with another shrug. “See you tomorrow, Sam.”

“Hey, don’t forget you said you’d help me with my history paper!” Sam called as Natasha turned on the car and Steve shut the door.

~ ~ ~

“Mr. Barnes,” Ms. Hill sighed long sufferingly. Steve cringed for Bucky. He’d only been in the school for three weeks and teachers already knew his name and were comfortable using it. “Is what you’re sitting on called a chair or is it a desk?”

Bucky smiled sheepishly and slid off Rumlow’s desk. “I’m not sittin’ on anything, ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes and waved her hand. “You’re also not in this homeroom. This should be an automatic write up.”

“Oh, come on, miss! I’m helpin’ Brock with his alg2!”

“You’re not a tutor, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank God for that,” someone snorted and Bucky flicked him off, blocking the gesture with his body from Ms. Hill.

“Go to your class, James,” Ms. Hill ordered.

Bucky sighed dramatically and dragged his feet as he took the longest route between the desks to get to the door. He’d gotten to Steve’s desk, paused for half a second to glance at Steve’s sketchbook, which was all it took for Ms. Hill to add, “Mr. Rogers, please see to it that James makes it to his class and doesn’t get distracted by someone else.”

Steve balked for a second, hands working on autopilot as he closed his book and started packing it away. “He’s an adult, Ms.Hill. Come on!”

“Mr. Rogers, please.”

Steve sighed and grabbed his backpack. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m gonna take a piss,” Rumlow said, shoving his chair back into the desk behind him when he stood up. He knocked his shoulder into Steve’s when he walked by and let the door slam behind him.

“Can we make sure he never gets the separated chair and desk again?” someone asked as Steve and Bucky walked out the door.

Brock was already finding trouble, stalking after one of the freshman cheerleaders as she toddled down the hallway in heels that were way too tall for her. Steve’s fingers curled into a fist and he didn’t even care when Bucky didn’t veer left like he should have to get to his homeroom class. Bucky went to catch up to Rumlow and Steve followed after Bucky.

“Hey, little lady,” Rumlow purred just before Bucky could grab his letter jacket sleeve. The freshman stopped too suddenly when Rumlow stepped in front of her and her ankles buckled. Bucky caught her arm and helped her get her feet under her again. “I don’t know your name.”

She blinked up at him. “We can keep it that way,” she said.

Steve snorted behind her and even Bucky had suddenly found an intense interest in cleaning a specific rod on his brace as he bit his lip.

Rumlow glared over at Steve. “You got something to say, fag?”

Everyone in the hallway, save Rumlow, stiffened. The freshman tried to scoot her way out of Rumlow’s line of sight, which was easy since he was locked in on Steve. Steve was nearly shaking with rage. Bucky was staring at Steve with wide eyes.

“Get fucked, Rumlow,” he said, when he regained his composure. “Rogers isn’t gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Steve agreed. The flush on his cheeks was so hot it was actually becoming distracting and he could already feel perspiration stinging at his armpits. “I’m bi. And no insult you throw at me is gonna change that.”

“Wait, you like guys?” Bucky asked.

Rumlow scoffed and kicked his shoe against the tile floor. “You can’t tell just from looking at him?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rumlow,” Steve snapped.

“Why the fuck are you comin’ to the aid of some chick you don’t even wanna bang?”

The girl continued slipping away but stopped with a furrow in her brow. “That’s not how being bi works.”

“Get lost!” Rumlow barked at her and she quickly scampered away.

“Stop talking about people like that,” Steve said when he thought Rumlow had stared after the girl for too long. Rumlow looked at him, a snarl coming to his mouth.

“What are you gonna do about it, fag?” Rumlow spat.

Steve stepped closer to him and Bucky moved next to them, close enough to intervene, but not between them yet.

“Why don’t we all calm down, guys,” he suggested, holding one hand up and trying to move his other arm.

“I wouldn’t waste my time on a piece of shit like you,” Steve answered. “I only fuck with guys who have something to use between their legs.”

Bucky groaned and brought his hand up to his face while Rumlow’s snarl turned into a maniacal, sardonic grin. He swung at Steve, but missed his face. He hit Steve’s shoulder, which still somehow managed to knock the air out of Steve’s lungs but Steve launched himself at Rumlow’s midsection anyway.

It was only the element of surprise and their uncoordinated rage that toppled them to the ground. Elbows and knees were flying and landing more blows than the wild punches they were throwing. Rumlow grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and Steve thought that if he was going to continue fighting, he should get it cropped short. Rumlow used his handful of hair to throw Steve to the side to straddle him and rain blows around Steve’s face and chest.

Steve kicked Rumlow in the balls and shoved him back after one blow made his head ring too worryingly. Rumlow keeled over on his side and Steve quickly got to his knees, fully ready to punch Rumlow’s nose in. But an arm came around his waist and pulled him away. Bucky ducked his head to avoid Steve’s flailing elbows and stumbled across the hall and into a row of lockers.

“Will you calm down?!” he snapped. He tried to get his arm around Steve’s, to hold them by his sides, but with only one arm to work with and Steve’s anger and adrenaline working against him, it was a losing battle until someone else was there to help him.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?!” the football coach shouted over the commotion as he hauled Rumlow to his feet by the collar of his jacket. The homerooms in the hall had slowly edged out of classes to watch the fight and Steve really wished shame would wash over him and blot out some of his anger. It did not and he felt like launching himself at Rumlow all over again.

“Barnes, walk him to the principal’s office while I take care of this idiot,” the coach ordered, halfway dragging Brock down the hall to the office suite.

Bucky slowly straightened them out. “Are you—” he started, but Steve caught him glancing around at all the other students staring at them. He pulled Steve with him, fingers digging into Steve’s upper arm. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

“And you’re a coward,” Steve shot back. “And a bad person.”

Bucky stopped them just on the other side of a bathroom and shook Steve roughly. “What is wrong with you?!” he demanded? “Why can’t you just be normal? Hasn’t anyone ever pressured you to just be a fucking normal guy?”

“Is that what happened to you?” Steve asked, trying to shake out of Bucky’s hold and failing. “I get pressured every fucking day, you bastard! I’m a queer, disabled kid, of course I get picked on! I still manage to care about other people!”

“Take care of yourself first!” Bucky ordered.

“I’m not yours to worry about. Fucking let go of me!” Steve reached up to claw at Bucky’s wrist until he let go. “I can walk by myself, asshole.”

Bucky made a derisive noise but didn’t grab Steve’s arm again as they finished the trek to the front offices.

“Mr. Barnes,” a voice greeted and Steve hesitated in the doorway. But Bucky was coming up behind him and basically walked into him, knocking Steve into Principal Pierce’s office. “You’ve had an exciting first few weeks. I’m sorry you had to see our school-body at some of its lowest today. I hear you’re the only person to see the whole thing. Can you tell me who started this brawl?”

Bucky glanced between Rumlow’s bruising face and Steve’s and shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see.”

Steve’s jaw tightened immediately and he put as much distance between them as possible. Who knew what he was going to do to Bucky if they got near each other again.

“Steve…” Bucky started, sounding softer than he had all year.

“Go away, Barnes,” Steve muttered, sitting heavily in one of the chairs along the wall to wait for his mom to get up here.

“Steve…” Bucky tried again.

“Go.”

~ ~ ~ 

“ _Mo stoirín_ , I just don’t understand what’s going on,” Sarah Rogers said, later that evening. Steve dropped the bag of peas back into the freezer to refreeze and pulled out the real ice pack. He held it over his eye before coming back to the couch to curl up next to his mom. Sarah brushed her fingers through Steve’s hair, gentle over the tender area where Rumlow had pulled it earlier. Steve had already whimpered over it enough since getting home. He took a moment to parse out what he wanted to say and Sarah let him sit in silence.

“I just got so angry. But I wasn’t even that mad at Rumlow. I mean, I’m always mad at him, but it was Bucky standing by and letting it happen that really got to me,” he eventually said.

Sarah hummed. “I saw that he’s the bad guy in your comic,” she said softly.

Steve groaned and brought his hand up to his face. “It’s not him!” he insisted. “It just looks like him. And shares his name.”

“And went missing like him. And came back like him. And loved you before like him,” Sarah said.

“It’s not me!”

Sarah chuckled and laid her fingers over Steve’s forehead to trace her thumb up and down the bridge of his nose. “Of course, my love.”

Steve closed his eyes. “It’s temporary.”

“It’s okay to process your emotions through art, Stevie,” she said gently. “It’s probably healthier than most alternatives. What’s not okay is another suspension on your record. They’re not going to let you graduate if you continue on like this.”

“It’s only three days. And Rumlow got the same.” Which never happened. But since Bucky wouldn’t corroborate that Rumlow was innocent, or tell the truth that Steve was, Pierce had no choice but to punish them the same. Three days suspension and Steve was traded out of Ms. Hill’s homeroom to serve as an office aide instead. It suited Steve fine.

“I’m not going to stop fighting just because they threaten me. I’d rather have to get a GED than let Rumlow and his assholes get away with being...well, assholes to everyone.”

Sarah laughed again and Steve blearily opened his eyes to look up at her. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I’m just thinking about how bad a jedi you’d be.”

“Ma!” he objected. “I’m already emotionally vulnerable enough.”

She smiled down at him and rubbed his nose again. “You’re far too emotional to be a jedi,” she reiterated. “You’d blow just like Anakin did.”

“Hopefully not _just_ like him,” Steve said. “Righteous anger is not the same as murder.”

“Anger is anger. And anger leads to hate.”

“No!”

“And hate leads to suffering,” she finished. “It is the way of the dark side.”

“Ma! Righteous anger isn’t anger born of fear.”

“No?”

“No. It’s… It’s….”

“It’s fear of the unknown, of the possibility for unfairness. Fear of unfairness itself.”

“I’m in too much pain to argue with you,” Steve said. “And I don’t have enough time to tell you all the ways you’re wrong.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, I’m so wrong,” Sarah agreed sarcastically. “You should give Bucky a second chance. This time, let him show you who he is. [Don’t let your passion rule your head. Like anger, hate, and suffering, letting your passion override you is going to lead to jealousy, pain, heartbreak, and even darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092),” she said softly.

“I need to write that down for the comic,” Steve muttered, turning his head against her lap.

“You can use it. Are you going to try to sleep?” she asked, going back to petting his hair.

“Will you stay?” he asked softly.

Sarah nodded with a gentle smile. “Yes, of course, _mo stoirín_. I will always stay with you.”

Steve nodded, hair scritching on her jeans. “I love you.”

“I love you, my little warrior.”

~ ~ ~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, my dear friend. How I’ve missed you.” — C-3PO

“Rogers, look at you!” Sam crowed, reaching out to bodily spin Steve around by the shoulders. “Oh my God, I’m obsessed with this whole thing.”

Steve smiled, an embarrassed but pleased flush coming to his cheeks. He was wearing navy dress pants with a thin red stripe he’d sewn down the outer sides of each leg, cuffed a little above the ankle, a navy vest over a tan henley, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, and black knock-off oxford boots. There was a thicker, brown leather belt hanging off his hips with silver clasps and decorations.

“Han Solo!” Natasha greeted with a great smile as she followed Sam through the door. 

They all exchanged hugs and Steve heard his mom’s camera click a few times. Sam was wearing dark navy pants with a silver jacket and red shirt. He’d opted for dress boots too, but his were the same red as his shirt, which only Sam Wilson would manage to find. Natasha was wearing a long, strapless dress, mahogany red on the bust that narrowed in around her waist and then fanned back out to the floor in an hourglass form. The rest of the dress was black, starting just under the sides of the bust and framing the red down the sides and around the back. Two slits ran up the sides, nearly to her hips, separating the red and black materials. Her hair was piled up on her head in an entirely too complicated updo and gold jewelry glittered down her neck and arms, a thin, gold chain belt cinched the dress in at the waist.

“You three are the handsomest students in the whole school,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “I feel like a paparazzi taking these pictures,” she teased.

“Ma,” Steve groaned, but he was grinning and Sam and Natasha wrapped their arms around him, jostling him between them. Sarah took more photos.

“Gosh, I wish I was gonna be here to have an afterparty,” she sighed, reaching out to muss Steve’s hair, even though he’d spent half an hour trying to get gel to take to it.

“You deserve to have your fancy anniversary in DC with your husband, Mrs. Rogers,” Natasha said.

“We’ll make sure Steve doesn’t get in too much trouble tonight,” Sam added. “My sister has already claimed us after the dance. We’re having a Mario Party.”

Steve already knew this wasn’t true, but having a reasonable alibi with other people was one of the only things that would get Sarah on the plane to DC. Really, Steve expected to go to the dance, stay a few hours, and then come home and go to sleep. By some unlucky chance, he had the one parent in the whole world who wanted their teenager to go out to parties.

“I know, I know,” Sarah said. “Stay at Sam’s place. You can come back tomorrow morning. I don’t want you navigating the city inebriated,” she ordered.

Steve blushed and rolled his eyes. “It ain’t gonna be like that, Ma. But I’ll stick with Sam and Nat,” he promised anyway.

They kissed Sarah goodbye and Steve made sure he had his house key before they piled into Natasha’s too-expensive car. Sam immediately found the flask in the backseat and shook it tantalizingly at Natasha.

“This is illegal, ma’am.”

“It’s not my car,” she lied with a shrug. “Dear old Dad’s.” Steve still wasn’t sure her father existed. He only appeared in stories when Natasha needed an excuse for something, like why there was straight vodka in the backseat.

“Too bad you’re driving,” Sam said, with no real remorse. He took a swig and passed the flask over to Steve.

Steve stared at it dubiously. The smell was enough to knock him back in his seat. He faltered a few times, never quite bringing the lip of the flask to his mouth.

“Do or do not, Stevie,” Natasha teased, looking over at him. “There is no try.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at her and pointedly took a small drink. Immediately his eyes watered and he had to very much so keep himself from coughing it all back up. “Jesus, Nat, that’s car gas.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s just Russian and you Americans are very weak.”

“Hey! I didn’t do nothing!” Sam objected. He leaned forward to plug his phone into the aux cord and started blasting his favorite playlist.

“Do we want food?” Natasha asked over the music. “I’m craving a shitty burger before we go.”

“I thought we were gonna go to that Thai place?” Steve said.

“Burgers sound really good. Can’t we do Thai for prom? When we wanna do pictures and show off?” Sam suggested. “Everyone else is gonna be coming from the game and they’re gonna be gross. We might as well match smell.”

“If you don’t get onions, you won’t,” Natasha said.

“Only heathens wouldn’t get onions,” Sam answered immediately, an old argument that they never tired of.

Steve sighed and threw up his arms. “Fine, let’s do burgers. Dan’s?” he asked, though he already knew the resounding answer.

Despite the fact that game was still going on, Dan’s was packed with high schoolers and recently graduated high schoolers and older groups that Steve didn’t recognize. It was easy to assume that on any Friday night Dan’s would be busy, but Homecoming was something else.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha found an inside table by grace of Steve being able to squeeze into a corner between them. He looked out over the bustling restaurant and froze when he saw Bucky Barnes sitting by himself at the breakfast bar. He was wearing an all black ensemble, dark jeans and a bomber jacket that tucked in around his slim waist. His hair was down, a rare occurrence for the boy who normally had it pulled back in a ponytail. He looked good, but so sad that Steve’s chest betrayed him and ached. It didn’t take Sam and Natasha long to follow his eyeline.

“We should invite him over,” Natasha suggested.

Sam looked at her like she was crazy. “Even if we had the room, which we don’t, he’d just ruin the evening,” he objected.

“All of his friends are at the game. It’s not fair that he has to eat alone.”

“He should’ve gone to the game then.”

“Like you do?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow. “You know no athlete wants to go to a game they can’t play in.”

Sam glowered for a second longer but didn’t argue. He also didn’t get up and offer Barnes a seat though.

Natasha waited to see if either boy would suck it up and make a move, but they didn’t, so she huffed out a breath and pointedly kicked her stilettos off against their shins before getting up and crossing to Bucky.

Steve definitely couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but it didn’t seem like Barnes was arguing too much. Just hesitating. Then again, it was very hard to argue with Natasha Romanov.

A few seconds later, they were coming back together.

“James is going to ride with us back to the school. He left his bike over there. Walked all the way here,” she said, making it sound dramatic.

“It’s not that far,” all three boys said at the same time, in different tones, each with their own agenda.

Barnes almost smiled. Steve saw it.

He looked around the table, saving Steve for last. With the big breath he took, Steve thought for sure he’d get at least an apology, but Barnes only said, “Hey, Stevie.”

Up close, Steve saw that he was wrong in assumed Bucky had put his brace on over his jacket. He was wearing a compression sleeve along his arm and his jacket was missing the left sleeve entirely, hemmed neatly at the shoulder to tuck under the top of the brace. It was kind of funny and Steve found himself fighting down a grin.

Bucky caught on immediately and held his arm up a little. “It makes Mom feel good to do shit like this,” he explained. “Better for the brace or something. And I guess it really doesn’t hurt anything. She keeps all the sleeves.”

It was enough, for some reason, to break the tension at the table and all four of them began to laugh together.

“Oh my God, are you gonna sew it all back together when you get out of this thing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the idea. Everything I own’s just gonna have this extra seam in the shoulder.” They grinned at each other and Steve thought Sam forgot he hated Bucky for a little bit.

“Is that why you didn’t actually dress up for the dance?” Natasha asked.

“Hey, back in Indiana, this woulda been perfectly fine for a homecoming dance,” Bucky said, holding up his hand in surrender.

“Yeah, but you’re in New York now,” Sam said.

“Yeah, apparently.”

Steve kept half an eye on Bucky, trying to find a crack in the persona he was playing at around them. It didn’t feel like he was talking to the same guy from the past few weeks at school. But Bucky didn’t slip up at any point. He dug into his food with as much gusto as the rest of them did and settled the argument between Natasha and Sam when he reached over for Natasha’s discarded onions. He kicked Steve’s shin under the table like he had when they were kids and wanted Steve to pay attention. Him and Natasha fell into an easy camaraderie, at which Sam coughed, “robots” to Steve. The whole dinner and ride over to the school felt like Steve was back with his Bucky. Maybe his mom had been right. He just needed to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt.

He was proved wrong when a group of footballers distracted Bucky before Natasha’s car had even stopped outside of the auditorium. He jumped out of the car and ran over to his friends, leaping into the air and knocking his good shoulder against some other senior’s.

“Well, there goes that,” Sam said as he unfolded himself from inside the car. “Don’t they make your sporty cars with leg room?” he asked, opening the front door for Natasha.

“No, they’re only made for short people,” she answered.

Steve crossed over to them, sparing one last glance at Bucky. “You guys ready for a dance?” he asked, putting on a bravado.

“You’re not gonna know what hit you, Rogers,” Sam laughed. 

Natasha hooked her arm over Sam’s elbow and then Steve’s. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”

~ ~ ~

“I have had sex!” Sam insisted two hours later. All three of them were melting into their seats, half drunk water bottles scattered around the table in front of them. They’d all danced too much, too quickly, and too hard. But, God, it had been so much fun. Steve’s stomach hurt from laughing all night and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling too.

“Yeah, but you’re not actively having sex,” Natasha said. “I bet you haven’t slept with anyone in this school.”

“Yeah, and neither have you,” Sam said. “You know there’s a perfectly good reason to not have sex with anyone here.”

“Steve’s the only one worth it,” Natasha laughed. “And he’d probably have an asthma attack in the middle of it.”

“Please keep my name out of your mouths when you’re trying to get into each other’s pants,” Steve groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. He took the opportunity to slyly wipe more sweat from his forehead and temples.

“He wishes,” Natasha scoffed.

“Oh please, you want _all_ of this,” Sam laughed.

Natasha shook her head vehemently, tendrils of red hair falling in her face, danced free throughout the evening. “Absolutely not. You can keep it.”

“Hey, Nat, you wanna go dance with me for a minute?” Sam asked suddenly. And without arguing or joking or offering to bring Steve, Natasha got up and left.

“Ass--” Steve started but got cut off by someone saying, “Stevie?”

Steve jumped and turned, finding Bucky Barnes standing behind him. “Oh. Hey. Didn’t figure I’d see you again,” he answered, trying to save a few cool points and failing miserably.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just ‘cause I’ve got other friends….”

Steve raised his eyes, intending Bucky to continue, but when he didn’t, Steve sighed and gestured to Sam’s abandoned seat. “You wanna sit or something?”

“Actually I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance. You seem like you have a lot of fun. Hey, you remember that Empire Dance we made up when we were kids?” A fond smile came to his lips. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember all of it,” Steve said with a nod. And he did. Else he might not be so irritated that Bucky seemed to have forgotten all of it.

“Come on, Stevie. Dance with me,” Bucky said and held out his hand.

Hesitantly, Steve took it and stood up. He’d seen Bucky swing a few girls around the dance floor. He was a good dancer, on basis of being one of a handful of people who could do more than shuffle step slow dance. Steve knew, logically, how to dance, but, in practice, he had two left feet on a good day. Having little hearing didn’t bode well for trying to keep balance. 

But the song playing was slow anyway and Bucky and Steve fell into a simple, if tense, slow dance. Steve realized, possibly for the first time, that he only came up to Bucky’s chest, eyes level with his collarbone. He fixed his eyes over Bucky’s shoulder.

“How come you don’t like me callin’ you Bucky, but you ain’t done nothing but call me Stevie? You hardly ever used it when we were kids.”

Bucky shrugged, but seemed to think about it. “I dunno. Seems to fit, I guess. Becca is actually Rebecca and spending so long on teams where everyone calls each other by last names, I guess I’m used to not really using people’s names.”

Steve hummed. It was a stupid explanation, but he was willing to let it slide. “Fine. Then why are you dancing with me? Aren’t you scared someone’s gonna think you’re fuckin’ me?” he asked bitingly.

Bucky physically flinched. “Stevie, it ain’t like that. I didn’t mean it like that that day.”

“Bullshit. You were so fuckin’ offended when Rumlow said that.”

“I was just surprised. I mean…” He trailed off and chewed on his lower lip. “Listen, it’s not like you’ve ever been Mom’s favorite. Dad and I’ve been tellin’ her you ain’t queer for years.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Barnes?” Steve demanded, shoving Bucky back enough to glare at him.

“I didn’t tell her to think it! You think it was easy for me too? I had to live with her! And she damn sure thought the same about me. I was a _kid_!”

“So was I! You seem to have figured out how to love her anyway.”

Bucky brought his hand up to his face and pinched his nose. “It’s not like that. I mean. She’s my mom, Steve. What do you want me to do? Spend my whole life fighting? Like you?”

“At least I know who I am.”

“I know who I am, Rogers.”

“Does anyone else?” Steve asked.

Bucky reached out for Steve’s elbow again, holding him still even though Steve wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m trying to tell you.”

“Then tell me, Barnes. Tell me who you are. Who the fuck is Bucky Barnes? Because I can’t fuckin’ figure it out and I’m real tired of James Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he looked away from Steve for a second before his stupid blue eyes found Steve’s face again. “Stevie… I wanna be--”

“Tell me who you are,” Steve repeated. “Not who you want to be.”

Bucky matched his glare, something boyish in it still. Something familiar. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. “Are we gonna dance or not?”

Steve glared but stepped closer to Bucky again, holding onto his shoulder carefully. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I’m not going to give myself up for you. And I don’t want half of you. I don’t want to hang out with one version of you when you play someone else in public.”

“I just want my friend back,” Bucky said.

“No, you want an easy out.”

“Maybe I just want someone I can be myself around!”

“I’m not your private doll. Figure out who you are and be that guy.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“And you want the easy out.”

Bucky let out a frustrated noise and Steve felt his fingers curl against his back.”You’re definitely not easy, Rogers. You’re a real pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got me, no matter what.” As much as Steve hated to admit it, it was true. For some reason, he couldn’t walk away from Bucky. He’d fucking tried this past month. The more he fought against it, the faster he drawn right back to Bucky’s magnetic aura. “It’s not a lot of work.”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “You’re so wrong, Rogers.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but someone called his name and he quickly stumbled back from Steve, like he thought his friends couldn’t see them together before but now could. He pulled his hand from Steve’s so fast, he popped one of Steve’s knuckles. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later,” he said and left without another word.

Anger burned fast through Steve’s body as he watched Bucky melt back into the crowd on the other side of the dance floor. He would’ve spent the rest of the dance rooted to the spot, glowering and getting madder, but the DJ started some announcement about the homecoming court and he had to move away.

Sam and Natasha were back at the table, probably had been since Steve had walked away. “I’m going home,” he answered, reaching for a water bottle. He finished it without stopping and threw it at the trash can.

“You gonna walk?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I will if I have to.”

She sighed and stood up, heels hooked over her middle finger. “Lucky for you, I’m getting pretty tired too,” she said.

There was a girl sitting by Sam. Steve recognized her from something, but couldn’t quite place her. Regardless, clearly Sam wasn’t leaving.

“You’ll be good for a ride?” Steve asked.

“I’m the most popular of all of us,” Sam laughed. “I’ll be fine.” He gave Steve a lazy two finger salute and Natasha wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist.

“Come on, Steven. I feel like my feet are never going to stop aching. I’m going to sleep for a year.”

Steve wasn’t in the mood to laugh. He hugged Sam goodbye and let he and Natasha say goodbye before heading to the door without looking back.

~ ~ ~

Steve blinked blearily at his phone as the too-bright screen swam into focus in his hand. It was 4.12 in the morning, five hours after he’d gotten home, but only two or three since he’d gotten into bed and closed his eyes. Definitely not enough to deal with the banging on the front door.

He stumbled out of bed and groped for his glasses, knocking his phone to the floor in the process and a can of pencils. He wasn’t going to deal with it. He grabbed a robe that looked like Obi-Wan’s from his door and covered his half naked body in case it was their next door neighbor at the door and not one of his friends.

He peeked through the door glass and found Sam and Bucky bathed in the security light, looking worse for the wear than Steve left either of them. He quickly pulled open the door.

“Sam, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Rumlow,” Sam grunted, dragging Bucky through the door.

“Fuck Rumlow,” Bucky slurred and fell against the wall, nearly shaking a picture free.

“Can you help?” Sam asked, nodding to Bucky’s other side.

Steve quickly ducked under his arm, but wasn’t sure how much good he was doing. “Come on, bring him to my room.” They half carried, half dragged Bucky down the hall and dumped him on the bed. Steve pulled off Bucky’s boots and undid his belt, which felt vastly wrong, so he did it fast enough that the buckle flipped back and hit his knuckles. He was going to pull off the brace when he realized Bucky wasn’t wearing it.

He turned to ask Sam what happened to it, but Sam was already holding it up. “He fucked it up pretty bad at the party,” he explained and sat it down on Steve’s desk.

“Sam, you’re bleeding,” Steve said, stepping towards him.

“It’s not so bad,” Sam said, but let Steve grab his jaw.

“At least let me put some alcohol on those cuts. Did you get in a fight?” Sam sighed and nodded silently. Steve sighed too and held Sam’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go to the master bathroom.” He led Sam to the other side of the house, by his parents’ room, and had him sit on the sink counter. He found cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol.

“The girl I was with wanted to go to Rumlow’s party,” Sam said without prompting. “I figured it was better if I went with her. She wanted to find some baseball player or something, but I wanted to make sure people left her alone if she couldn’t find him. She’s cute, y’know, and I think she was spiking her punch at the dance.”

Steve nodded and patted a wet cotton ball over the gash on Sam’s cheekbone.

“So we were there and Barnes was there. I didn’t see him until I’d been around for ten minutes or so. I dunno if he got there before me, but by the time I saw him, he was totally wasted. I’d been hanging by myself for a few minutes when he came over. The girl found whoever she was looking for,” he explained offhandedly. “And he’s whining my fuckin’ ear off. About everything. And he was so loud.”

Sam mumbled suddenly as Steve reached up to dab neosporin on his lip. “I’m gonna eat this,” he muttered, then continued. “And I guess Rumlow heard and he was fucked up too. And they threw insults back and forth for a while and then they were brawling and I tried to break them up and you see how well that worked,” he said, gesturing to his face.

“Yeah, but why did you get involved? Why did you bring Bucky here? You coulda just let someone else deal with him.”

“What? Like the cops?” Sam scoffed. “He was bleeding. He needed help. I couldn’t leave him in Rumlow’s place.” Sam sighed and let Steve take his hand and wrap a medicated tape around his raw knuckles. “Back in DC,” he said, which caught Steve’s attention immediately, “I had this best friend. He was kind of everything to me. We played next to each other on the field, the court, I was the third leg to his anchor in the relay. There wasn’t anything we didn’t do together. I loved him. We _loved_ each other.

“And anyway, we were out at a party like this one and I did like you did tonight. I got mad at something and tried to get him to come home with me but he said he was good and would get a ride from someone else. And I left. And he got a ride. And the guy driving was so drunk the cops could smell it through the window when they came up on the crash.

“They had to have a closed casket funeral for him, his face was so messed up.” Sam’s voice choked off and Steve had the decency not to look up at his face right then. “And sometimes when I look at Barnes, I see so much of Riley, of his same stupid, bad decisions and his need to fit in and be loved by everyone all the time. The same loneliness. God, Steve, Riley was so lonely. He didn’t have half the support system he needed for how much he did. He practically lived at my house. And Barnes looks like the same kind of broken that no one gave a shit about with Riley. So I couldn’t just leave him. I had to get him home.”

“Had to save him?” Steve suggested softly.

Sam choked out a wet noise and nodded weakly. “Yeah. Save him.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist tightly and Sam fell into him, face in his shoulder so that Steve could feel the tears on his shoulder when Sam started to cry. “I’ve got you, Sam. You did good. You got him to safety,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to Sam’s temple softly. He freed an arm to hold his hand against the back of Sam’s head, fingers brushing over his soft hair. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

Steve wasn’t sure how long they sat there. He ignored how cold the tile was on his feet and the awkward angle they were both sitting on to lean on each other. Eventually, Sam sat up and wiped his face.

“Now you know where I came from in the middle of the year. Why I don’t play anymore. It just doesn’t feel right. God,” he breathed, “I think I just cried off everything you put on my face,” he laughed shakily.

“I’m sure saltwater is just as good,” Steve assured. He didn’t actually know how the human body worked. “Come on, we’ll pull out the couch for you,” he said, helping Sam off the counter. “Clearly I’m not letting you go home tonight.”

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair,” he said with a nod.

When they got into the living room, though, a groan from Steve’s room interrupted their set up. Sam glanced over at him and waved him off. “I know where the blankets are. Go help him,” he said with a nod.

Steve squeezed Sam’s arm and ducked back down the hall to his room. Bucky was sprawled over his bed. He’d managed to get his jacket off somehow and had shoved his pants down, which meant Steve was going to have to be awkward again and finish pulling them off because there was no way he could get them back up to Bucky’s thighs, much less to his waist. Besides, it’d probably be wildly uncomfortable to sleep in skinny jeans or whatever these obnoxiously tight things were.

First, Steve pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt because the last thing he wanted was for Bucky to come half to and freak out about why Steve was half naked in front of him. Not that, it seemed, Bucky had any problem getting half naked in other people’s beds.

Steve didn’t think too much into it.

He finished getting Bucky’s pants off, as efficiently with as little skin-on-skin contact as possible. He couldn’t tell if Bucky was just being squirmy or if he was actually trying to help Steve. Steve hesitated by the compression sleeve next, unsure if he should take it off or not. But he’d been in these things before and whatever injury always ended up hurting more in the morning if he left them on and restricted the blood flow all night. So he gently hooked his fingers in the top of the sleeve and pulled it down to Bucky’s wrist slowly.

Bucky’s arm was a mess of scarring and bruising. Steve almost stopped halfway down his arm until he realized the bruising was from where the rods of the brace bit into his arm. His shoulder was covered in deep surgical scars, so many that the whole of his shoulder was lower than the muscle of his traps and biceps, a gnarled valley of atrophied muscle and skin. There were longer scars on his biceps, three total around his arm, and two on his forearms. Steve couldn’t begin to imagine how many surgeries had cut into Bucky’s arm to leave something like this. Sure, Steve had spent a fair number of nights in the hospital, but other than the scar down his chest from heart surgery when he was a toddler, no one would be able to tell by looking at him.

This looked painful, even now. Bucky had said it’d been two years since his accident and some of the wounds looked fresh, not even mentioning the constant bruising. Steve grimaced and pushed Bucky onto his back, on one side of the bed. He quickly reached for the pillow made to look like Chewbacca’s chest with his storage belt decorated diagonally across it and threw it to his desk. He did not want Bucky to vomit on the faux-fur material.

He knew he should go find a water bottle for Bucky, but he figured there was probably enough half full ones on his end table that they’d be fine. Slowly, he climbed into his bed, laying stiffly on the edge of it, as far from Bucky as possible.

The peace didn’t last long before Bucky was lurching up and gasping in breath. His fingers clawed at Steve’s black comforter and he looked around wildly before his eyes found Steve, sitting up next to him.

“Where am I?” he asked.

Steve picked up a Baby Yoda plush. “Where do you think you are?” he asked blandly.

Bucky let out a breath and sagged back against the pillows. “Fuck. Why am I in your bed? Did we--” Even in the dark, Steve could see the red hot flush that overcame Bucky’s face before he looked down at his boxers and it got worse.

“No,” Steve said quickly, to put him out of his misery. “We didn’t do anything. Sam brought you here and while I was talking to him, you undressed yourself.”

Bucky brought his hand up to his face, the bad one laying by his side even without the brace holding it there. “God, Stevie, I’m so sorry.”

“What happened, Barnes? Sam said you brawled with Rumlow. You fucked up your brace.”

“He just wouldn’t shut the fuck up and the whole time, all I could hear was what you said at the dance.”

“Don’t you pin this on me.”

“No. I just mean...I was trying to take it to heart. I mean, I was sitting there in someone’s ugly ass hummer, drinking terrible alcohol with a bunch of idiots and all I could think was how these people don’t even know my middle name. Half of ‘em don’t know that I’ve got a little sister, much less five older ones.

“I always get stupid when I’m drunk and Rumlow was running his mouth. He was ragging on Sam for something. God, Sam wasn’t even listenin’ to him. But I couldn’t stand it. I was so tired. I couldn’t deal with him. I didn’t even want to hear his stupid voice. So I shut him up.”

Steve rubbed his hands over his face and let out a sigh. “God, you’re a fuckin’ mess, Barnes,” he muttered. “Rumlow’s parties are the last place you should be trying to figure out who you are at.”

“I just thought about how you own it. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows what they’re getting. But even more than that, you don’t hide. You don’t have an act. You don’t have to remember who you’ve lied to, or what you’ve said. I was staring at myself the other day and I realized I fucking like English class. I’ve been so busy acting like I don’t give a shit about school that I forgot I like writing. I like to tell stories. And I’m good at math!”

Steve smiled sadly and reached out to rub Bucky’s arm.

“I don’t even let people call me Bucky. I forgot my favorite nick-name of all time. I’ve been so busy listening to what everyone else wants me to be--my mom, my friends, my sisters--that I forgot to make my own personality.

“Seeing you be _you_ made me so mad when I came back. I wanted that more than anything in the world and I couldn’t do it. But you had no issue with it and I hated you for that.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to say, so he just held onto Bucky’s bad arm, rubbing his wrist gently.

“And I’m sorry for that. I was so...mean. To so many people. Just to fit in. It was like...if I shoved enough people away, I’d have more room to fit in. If everyone focused on all the problems other people had, no one would look at me.”

“It’s not like you have that many obvious flaws,” Steve pointed out.

Bucky looked at him dubiously and shook his bad arm in Steve’s hold. “Someone like Rumlow would’ve eaten me alive as soon as he saw this stupid thing if I didn’t play his goonie.”

“Yeah, you’re not anyone’s goonie,” Steve promised. “Everyone likes you. No one can stand Rumlow.”

Bucky made a sound, like he wanted to argue or say something, but he just laid back in the bed again. After a few seconds, Steve laid down next to him. A moment after that, Bucky scooted over to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, sliding his hand into Steve’s, holding on lightly so Steve could shake him off if he wanted.

“Do you remember when we broke Ms. Martin’s window playing baseball with lightsaber bats?” he asked. Steve could feel his small smile against his shoulder.

“Yeah. We got in so much trouble. My dad was home and he was so angry he had to use his day off to help replace a window.” He took a second before asking, “Do you remember when you broke my nose ‘cause you were trying to kick the lightsaber up to yourself but kicked it at my face instead.”

Bucky winced in belated sympathy. “God, that was awful. I’ve never seen so much blood so fast. I thought I knocked an eye out.”

“Oh God!” Steve laughed, bringing a hand up to his mouth in disgust. “Now I’m particularly thankful it was only my nose.”

“What about that time we were trying to learn to ‘force flip’ ourselves?”

“And you flipped off your trampoline? We thought you broke your neck!”

“ _You_ thought?! I laid on the ground and tried to figure out if Heaven would look like my backyard or not,” Bucky laughed.

They laid in silence for so long, Steve thought Bucky had finally fallen asleep. But it was Bucky who spoke when Steve’s fingers faltered against his wrist. “Stevie?”

“Yeah?” Steve whispered back.

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told no one else?”

Steve nodded, hair scratching on his pillow loudly in the dark.

Bucky was quiet for a long time again. Steve felt his fingers tighten in Steve’s shirt just before he spoke. “I’m gay.”

For too long, Steve let the weighty silence hang around them and Bucky quickly rushed into an explanation Steve didn’t need. “I can’t...I can’t tell anyone. If Mom found out… God, I just… I’m so scared. I think that’s where all the hiding started, y’know? Like, if I let myself like things too much, how much I like guys would come out too. If I just...shoved everything away, didn’t let myself care about things, maybe it would go away too,” he said, stumbling over his words and losing his thoughts every now and then.

Steve quickly squeezed Bucky’s wrist and then held their hands over his chest, thumbs crossed over each other and fingers wrapped around wrists. “Calm down, Buck. It’s alright. I’m not gonna tell anyone,” he promised softly. “And I’m not gonna judge you for not wanting to tell anyone.”

“I _want_ to tell people,” Bucky objected. “But I’m scared. And I’m tired. And sometimes I forget if I’m scared of being found out and tired of hiding, or scared of never being who I am and tired of being scared.”

“Regardless, you don’t have to justify yourself. Not to me. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to nod wordlessly. They laid together for a few seconds more. Steve was trying to sort out this thoughts and find the right thing to say. Mostly, he just wanted to hold his best friend, a silent promise he wasn’t going anywhere. So he did, free arm coming around Bucky’s shoulders to hug him close.

“Do you remember our amended Jedi Code?” Steve asked quietly after the silence had stretched so long Bucky’s breathing was evening out.

Bucky was quiet for so long, Steve thought he wasn’t going to answer. That was fair. It was a dumb segway, but one Steve wanted to say anyway.

“There is no death, there is only the Force,” Bucky said.

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Steve continued.

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

“There is no passion, there is serenity.”

“There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

“There is no death, there is the Force,” Steve said.

Bucky took a breath, air cool against Steve’s thin shirt. “Love above all.”

Steve smiled gently and his fingers found Bucky’s hair. “Love above all,” he agreed.

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky said again, after another contemplative silence.

“Yeah, Buck?”

Bucky hummed, clearly pleased at the nick-name again. “Could I… Could I kiss you?”

Steve chewed on his lip and then slowly sat up, drawing Bucky with him. “Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that.”

And Bucky did, bringing both his hands up to Steve’s cheeks to hold him gently with warm, slightly swollen fingers, and kissed him softly. Not like he thought Steve might break, but like that Steve was something worth being gentle with.

And Bucky was a really good kisser, not that Steve had anything to compare it to. But he knew anyway. Bucky’s mouth was made for kissing people.

Bucky didn’t force it past a few kisses, didn’t try to get his tongue in Steve’s mouth or put his hands anywhere they shouldn’t be. He just kissed Steve and when they pushed their foreheads together to breathe, he said, “I don’t know how much I can give you now, but can you be patient with me?”

Steve nodded, heart squeezing with too many emotions to name while so much of his thought-space was focused on Bucky’s warm breath on his face. Bucky nodded too and kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth before laying down again, dragging Steve with him, bodies fitting together again in the bed.

A few minutes later, Bucky went lax against Steve and was quietly snoring. Steve forced himself to close his eyes, instead of staring at every inch of Bucky’s young face suddenly available and unguarded for him.

“Love above all,” he repeated softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative quote for this chapter was "You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!" --Obi-Wan Kenobi


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You must unlearn what you have learned." --Yoda

“Are you cooking?” Steve asked, wiping at his eyes the next morning as he curled up in the couch to watch Sam in the kitchen. “Did you let the fire marshall know?”

“Har. Har. What are you supposed to be? An Ewok?” Sam asked, waving a spatula at Steve’s Obi-Wan robe.

Bucky walked by Steve and flipped the too large hood over his head so it covered most of his face. Everything that was an adult male’s one-size-fits-all never actually fit Steve. “I think he’s a Jawa.”

Steve quickly batted the hood back off. “I hate both of you.”

Bucky waved him off and sat at the bar bisecting the kitchen from the living room. “Hey, Wilson,” he greeted with a nod, cuddling one of the water bottles from Steve’s room.

“Barnes,” Sam greeted with his own nod. “We cool?”

“We’re cool,” Bucky said. He reached for a cooling strip of bacon on the plate closest to Sam on the bar. “[Thank you,” he added. “For the food, and your faith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092) last night.”

Sam appraised him and shrugged. “Any excuse to fight Rumlow, right? At least we’re smart enough to avoid suspension when we do it.” Both of the others turned to grin at Steve, who only rolled his eyes and laid down on the couch so they couldn't see him.

“I’m taking out my hearing-aides. I’m tired of your voices,” he muttered.

“Baby,” Sam taunted, which made Bucky laugh. Steve pulled a pillow over his face and listened to Sam and Bucky’s conversation absently, zoning in when he thought it was important.

“What’re you gonna do about your arm thing?” Sam asked at one point.

“I’m gonna have to see a doctor before I can get a new one. They’re gonna wanna check everything out after that fight.”

“Hm. Does anything feel wrong with it?”

Steve glanced over to find Bucky looking at his arm, twisting it this way and that. “It’s been hurt for so long, I don’t know if I’d know what better felt like,” he said honestly. “I can’t tell if it hurts from more fractures or if it’s just a blood rush from not wearing something constricting the muscle all to hell.” He shook his arm out and Steve laid back down.

“What’re you gonna do about Rumlow at school on Monday?”

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know. Guess I’m eating lunch with you or something.”

“Ha! You wish,” Sam laughed, but Steve had a feeling they’d be cramped next to each other anyway. Steve tended to eat lunch in the art room--always it had felt fair to give Sam time to spend with his other friends without feeling like he had to drag Steve along--but he thought he might stay in the cafeteria on Monday, for Bucky’s sake.

“Food’s ready,” Sam said a while later, in the middle of some conversation about what kind of dog they’d ride into battle like Vikings. “I’m gonna go shower. Leave the good bits for me, I made it.”

“Yes, Little Red Hen,” Bucky said. Steve listened to them go opposite directions, listened to the shower turn on and Bucky bang around in the kitchen, and a few minutes later Bucky was sitting on the floor next to the couch, two bowls of eggs, beans, and bacon in front of him.

For a second Steve thought they’d talk about last night, about the things Bucky said and the fact that they fell asleep holding hands. Instead, Bucky said, “I noticed you’re calling your comic ‘Love Above All.’ That’s pretty cool,” he said.

Steve nodded and shoved a whole strip of bacon in his mouth.

“And that you put in the spy storyline I wanted.”

Steve shrugged, focused on mixing the eggs and refried beans.

“Noticed I’m the spy.”

“It’s not like that!” Steve insisted for the millionth time in his life. (It was very much so like that) “They’re just placeholder names.”

“Steve, the dude looks just like me,” Bucky said. “You gave him a metal arm.”

“And a very cool red lightsaber.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m not smart enough to find the kyber crystals needed for a red one.”

Steve shrugged again and shoveled food in his mouth.

“Can you at least give me a redemption arc or something? Come on. Talk about my Jedi Master or something. Why did I go bad? I was dead and now I’m not? What’s up with that?”

“It’s not you.”

“Clearly it’s me.”

“I’ll consider giving the spy a redemption arc, _if_ you’ll stop snooping through my journal.”

“You’re the one who leaves it sitting out and keeps putting me in your room unsupervised,” Bucky pointed out.

“Spy.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically, and collapsed against the edge of the couch.

“Is your arm really gonna be alright?” Steve asked, watching Bucky only use his right arm to eat.

“I dunno. I hope so. But Rumlow and I got pretty wild last night. I’m sure he hit it on purpose, on top of me using it excessively.”

“I know a PT up here who’s pretty good. If you want.”

“I’m sure Mom already has someone in mind. My doctor in Indiana was supposed to be sending us a list from up here.”

Steve nodded and they continued to eat in an easy silence, broken only by Sam coming back out of the shower a few minutes later and lobbing his towel at Bucky’s head, which set off a war. Steve refused to intervene. It would take too much time out of watching and laughing at his friends.

~ ~ ~ 

Steve looked up boredly when the doors to the office suite opened up. It had been about a week since the dance. Not much had changed at school. He wasn’t sure why whispers and rumors would follow him about the dance, or the brawl at the party, but they hadn’t. People continued to not even see him. Which was fine.

Bucky had been hanging out with Steve, Sam, and Natasha more, though he still had footballers and baseballers to chatter with during class and passing periods if Rumlow wasn’t around them. No one seemed to react to that change either. For a while, the brawl was all anyone could talk about last week, but then someone insisted someone else was pregnant and all the scrutiny of the student body was lifted off Bucky’s shoulders.

So Steve was a little surprised to see Bucky walking into the office.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Do you have a pass?” It felt like a stupid thing to say, but it was standard and it’s not like he wanted to fail ‘office aid’ as a class.

Bucky grinned, like he knew Steve thought it was stupid, and passed over a note. “I’m meeting with Mrs. Carter and Ed.”

“Don’t call him Ed,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. He paged Mrs. Carter’s office and then leaned forward to look at Bucky. “Did you get a new one?” he asked, nodding at the brace. It was silver instead of black and looked a little more movable than his old one.

“Yeah. I fractured two knuckles and I need to wear cuffs at my joints, but they don’t think I messed up, y’know, the radius and ulna and all that. My wrist is actually what they were most concerned about.” He held up his arm to show off the thick cuff holding his wrist straight in the brace.

“Damn, that sucks. But I’m glad they’re not gonna, like, cut your arm off or something.”

“Trust me, they keep threatening me with it,” Bucky said. He grinned at Steve and Steve knew Bucky was a flirt and a half, but these kinds of smiles always felt private, like Bucky brought them out just for him.

“What’re you talking to Mrs. Carter about?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I have to take therapy. Do therapy. Suffer through therapy, whatever,” Bucky said. He leaned his good elbow against the counter between them, making their conversation feel very conspiratorial. “When Mom found out about the fight, she freaked out. And she was freaking out, so I freaked out and had this meltdown with her and we decided it was probably best if I actually talked to someone.”

Steve frowned, a furrow digging in between his eyebrows. “What all did you tell her?”

Bucky chewed on his lip and glanced at the storage closet across from them. “I didn’t tell her about, y’know, me liking guys or anything. But I told her about Rumlow and how I ended up hangin’ out with a guy like that and how I felt pressured by her and that I could get angry, so I ended up fighting or whatever. To be fair, my fights are not nearly as often as yours, but I don’t think that was the kind of argument she wanted to hear.

“Anyway, we see a family counselor every two weeks now and I’m supposed to be meeting with Carter and Ed up here twice a week and a real therapist once a week on my own.”

“Don’t call him Ed,” Steve repeated.

“These ones are temporary though. They just want to make sure I’m not gonna flip out on Rumlow again. I guess they only want you to have that job.”

Steve laughed and shrugged. “Maybe. I only have to talk to a counselor the first time we fight each year.”

“I guess technically this is my first time. But the sessions are for a few weeks.”

“I’m glad you’re able to talk to someone. Mrs. Carter is the best. If anyone can get into your head and sort you out, it’s her,” Steve said. “Just trust her and talk to her.”

“Mr. Barnes?” Mr. Jarvis called from down the hall where Peggy’s office was. “You can come on in.”

Bucky gave an easy salute to Steve before walking down the hallway, a little hesitant but on his own nonetheless. Steve grinned after him and quickly wrote an outline for a med-bay scene in _Love Above All_.

~ ~ ~

At a sharp jab in his side, Steve looked up dazedly, fighting through his scarf to put his hearing-aides back in. “Ow, what, Nat?” he asked, rubbing at his ribs with a pout. It was already her fault they were sitting outside in the bleachers while Sam and Bucky tried to figure out if Bucky could catch and throw a football one handed. Steve had had no intentions of following his idiot best friends out into the January cold. Really, he needed to be on the Macs in the art room, or at home on his tablet, working on the lining of the digital version of his comic. Instead, he was trying to do his Calc homework with snot dripping out of his nose because Natasha wanted to monitor the boys’ progress.

“Look, Bucky’s waving to you,” she said, gesturing down to the field. And, yeah, down on the field, Bucky and Sam had been joined by a few of the guys who had stuck around Bucky after the homecoming brawl and had become pretty good friends to him. They looked like they were trying to lift each other up in some kind of cheer pyramid. It was going about as well as Steve would expect it to.

Eventually, they got Bucky, with his long hair wrapped in small Leia buns on either side of his head, up high enough and suddenly the stadium speaker system started playing the Star Wars theme while Bucky held up a large sign that said, in an approximation of the Star Wars crawl font: **I know I’ve been a STUCK-UP, HALF-WITTED SCRUFFY LOOKING NERF HERDER who has been looking in ALDERAAN places, but YODA OBI-WAN for me! Don’t make me go SOLO! PROM?** On either side of the text was YES with a green lightsaber drawn next to it, or NO with a red lightsaber and Sam was standing at the base of the bleachers, holding up cheapy lightsabers, red and green.

Steve buried his face in his hands and then moved to quickly reach for the green lightsaber. The boys on the field shouted and laughed and dropped Bucky.

~ ~ ~

Steve stared up at the hotel ceiling, listening to Bucky half snore next to him. The after parties of prom were still ringing through the walls and occasionally a burst of laughter or shouting would travel up and down the hall before a door shut.

Steve did not feel like sleeping. He wanted to go downstairs and help clean up the ballroom, but he was pretty certain Sam and Natasha in the room next door would hear him if he opened the door and bailed.

He wasn’t even sure what he was bailing on.

The four of them had gone to the dance together and rented rooms next to each other, hosting their own mini party with Sam’s next youngest sister--a sophomore so excited to have been asked to the dance--and a few friends, with pizza, wings, and bad syfy TV on in the background. They’d played games, danced, and chatted for hours after they’d left the actual prom dance. When everyone had dispersed, he’d seen Natasha and Sam’s sister passed out in bed, still in their fancy makeup and hair-dos but wearing old pjs, and Sam half on and half off the couch with reruns of X-Files playing in front of him.

There had been much eyebrow waggling in the minutes before everyone passed out about Bucky and Steve going to their own room together, but Bucky had only finished changing and immediately fallen asleep, his bad, but bare, arm thrown over Steve’s thin chest, fingers curled around his arm.

Okay, so maybe he knew what Sam and Natasha thought he’d be bailing on. But clearly Bucky hadn’t been operating on the same brain wave as the other two. Three.

Steve and Bucky had been ‘dating’ since before Thanksgiving, but had only really started telling people after Bucky’s promposal stunt. In that time, there’d been a lot of making out. Probably too much making out for a bad asthmatic. And...that was it. They hadn’t done anything else. Steve had zero experience to compare to, or know when to start pushing for another step, but Bucky seemed completely content to stay like this.

Steve sighed and sat up, catching Bucky’s arm before it could jar too badly when it fell to his lap. The new brace didn’t bruise his arm as badly as the old one did, but Steve still worried that joking bumps and passing touches might hurt him. He folded his fingers between Bucky’s and petted his other hand through Bucky’s hair slowly.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Bucky mumbled into his pillow. He slowly turned to face Steve, dragging his other arm with him to trace his knuckles over Steve’s elbow softly. He looked so little like this. Every time they shared a bed together, Steve was reminded of the same indescribable and inescapable pull that drew them together, first as kids and then again a decade later.

He brushed his thumb over Bucky’s cheek and shook his head. “Nah. Just enjoying the view.”

Bucky grinned, eyes shutting again, and pulled Steve closer by the hip, even though he wasn’t supposed to be stressing his arm. Steve fell back in the bed and Bucky immediately put his head on Steve’s chest, arm curling around his hips.

“Buck, are you afraid of having sex?” Steve asked.

Bucky choked on air next to him and propped himself up on his elbow long enough to look at Steve a little wildly. “No. Why would I be?”

“Because we haven’t even...y’know, touched each other.”

“Do you...want to?” Bucky asked. He laid back on his shoulder, but kept himself propped up enough to keep looking at Steve.

“I mean, shouldn’t we?”

“We ain’t gotta follow no time schedule,” Bucky said. He chewed on his lip, which Steve had realized meant he was thinking, so he didn’t speak. “I guess it just feels like a big step. I mean, we get all this propaganda about how much it means from programs and the total opposite from TV. But...I think it’d mean something for me. And I want it to and I know it would with you. I just...don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve said, sitting up now. “You haven’t had sex before?”

Bucky choked again and gestured around them wildly. “What about me makes you think I’ve had sex?” he asked.

“You’re...you! I mean, you’re so suave and charming and you flirt with anything that moves! I thought…” Steve shrugged exaggeratedly. “Thought you had.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

Bucky turned on his back and Steve laid on his, their shoulders and elbows and hips and knees pressed up against each other’s.

“Honest, Stevie. I wanna share that with you,” he said. “I trust you. And I know you trust me. I just… y’know, not in some hotel room ‘cause movies say Prom is where you get it, y’know?”

Steve nodded next to him. “I get it, Buck. I do. I can wait. And we ain’t gotta jump into nothin’. We can start small.”

Bucky nodded too. Suddenly he jerked and turned his head to look at Steve. “Do you remember in _Rise of Skywalker_ \--” he started and waited for Steve’s dramatic gag. “Remember that dyad thing? Isn’t that a thing in the Universe? Bonds or something?”

“Okay, first of all,” Steve said. “Dyads and Bonds aren’t--”

“Shut up, nerd. Are there or aren’t there?”

“Yeah, there are bonds,” Steve said. “It’s not usually practiced on Jedis. It takes Council permission and a Master.” At Bucky's unimpressed look, he rolled his eyes. “But we’re not Jedi, so give me your hand and close your eyes,” he finished.

Both he and Bucky turned onto their sides, clutching their hands between them, thumbs cross over thumbs, palms flat together. Steve made sure Bucky’s eyes were closed and then closed his own. “Think of our feelings for each other,” he said. “Think of our history, our favorite memories. The highs and lows, when we loved each other and hated each other.”

Theoretically, they’d be placed in a kind of trance by the Force at this point, the more they worked with it and touched each other’s Force sense. That was clearly not going to happen. Even Steve had grown out of his delusions about really being a Jedi and feeling the Force by the time he was eleven.

He felt Bucky’s slow breath tickle his face and he grinned, peeking open an eye to look at Bucky. “Okay, feel my Force with you. My presence in the space. My presence in you.”

Bucky let out another slow breath, body relaxing into the bed. He brought his bad arm up to cup the back of Steve’s head and Steve pressed his free arm to Bucky’s chest, over his heart. “Yeah, Buck, like that,” he said softly. “Tell me something you want me to keep forever,” he said.

“Does it have to be Star Wars related?” Bucky joked. “Um. [Believe in the Force. You know it won’t steer you wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092),” he said.

Steve smiled and pressed his forehead against Bucky’s. “[If we love more, though our hearts may be broken, we’ll be stronger and better for it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092),” he answered.

“I feel like[ I can feel you in my soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774913/chapters/51956092),” Bucky laughed. “Your nerd shit is rubbing off on me.”

Steve laughed too and knocked their noses together. “Welcome to my world,” he murmured. He let them lay there like that for a few more minutes. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Bucky nodded.

“Okay, open your eyes. We’ll face each other as bondmates,” he said and opened his eyes at the same time Bucky did. As always, Bucky’s blue eyes took his breath away.

“I love you,” Steve said and then his breath stuttered when he realized Bucky had said the exact same thing at the exact same time. They dissolved into laughter, arms coming around bodies, mouths pressed to mouths messily and happily.

“Maybe you’ve got more of the Force than I was giving you credit for,” Bucky teased, brushing their noses together again. “I love you,” he repeated.

And after all, in the whole universe, there was no Force greater than love.


End file.
